It’s not that I don’t have anything to say, it’s just that it’s so easy to not say anything. What with the travel and the many, many days off and the pesky cold and its partner in crime, the pesky cough, I’ve been busy as of late. Busy doing very little, but oh so much.
I could get used to this not working thing.
Today is the last day of my very long, very extended vacation. I’ve found solace in my pj’s, enjoyed their velvety or flannely or cashmery goodness, convinced that a good set of pj’s has medicinal powers.
I’ve learned just exactly what my cats do all day, a big clue on why one of them is pushing 21 lbs. in all his darling voraciousness.
I’ve been inundated with nearly three feet of snow, and spent two delightful hours trying to clear off our driveway while it continued to fall. Despite it all, it really was beautiful.
And I’ve welcomed in the New Year with people I love (in a great dress, no less) and am excited to see what the next 362 days will bring.
In the midst of it all, I was greeted with the unexpected; surprises both good and bad, experiences that tested my assurance, my grace, my ability to act like the person I am proud of instead of the person who, at times, takes the road of regrets. These eighteen days ‘away’ from the norm have included a lot of thinking, some reconnecting with people I’m not sure I want to reconnect with, digging up thoughts and feelings and emotions buried long ago and bringing them into the forefront. These eighteen days, they were lovely, but they weren’t always easy.